


Wax and Milk

by calibratingentropy



Series: Kinky Kisses (and other Galra BDSM practices) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Kissing As Safeword, Lactation Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Male Lactation, Military Attack on Civilians, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Roleplay, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calibratingentropy/pseuds/calibratingentropy
Summary: After a hard mission that involved digging small children out of the rubble of an attacked settlement, Antok is wound up and stressed. Kolivan gently helps his consort submit, and work out his tension, gaining relief for both of them in more ways than one.Can be read as a stand-alone.





	Wax and Milk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel/companion to my fic "One Who Grasps My Spine" and explores more Galra kinks. Set in the Quad-sexed Ovoviviparous Marsupial Galra AU cluster.
> 
> Special thanks to my betas: Geist, Pterodotyl, PictoJournalist, RahneDrop and dani_the_owl.
> 
> Some AU facts:  
> -Kolivan is male. Antok is a sex that's called a carrier, and he gender identifies male.  
> -Carriers can begin to spontaneously lactate if exposed to frightened/upset/injured children without parents present, and have a strong urge to adopt and care for parentless children.  
> -Arousal from nipple stimulation isn't that uncommon, but it's considered kinky, because of social taboos. Sexual stimulation of the nipples with the _mouth_ is very kinky.  
>  -Antok has joint issues because of being a hybrid. Hot wax is an actual therapy that's often used with arthritis!

The mission had been a success. The base had been sabotaged to remove communications and the orbital docking station. The natives and the civilian Galra that had settled in the mining colony would be freer and continue fostering anti-Empire sympathies, which would net the Blades more resources. 

But the new Commander had lashed out in hatred on his arrival just before the mission’s planned start, destroying a combined settlement and killing hundreds of Galra, natives, and hybrids, so many of them children. The Blades had done what they could in the aftermath, providing first aid and pulling injured out of buildings, but it hadn’t been enough. Children had called for lost parents, and parents had mourned over broken bodies. They had saved a few, and Antok himself had pulled a tiny child who looked mostly like one of the eyeless, thick-tailed natives, but gave Galra scent cues out of the rubble. That child had clung to Antok tightly, even when they found one of the child’s family, and Antok had been struggling not to keen ever since. It kept rising and breaking in his chest, and Kolivan ached to keen with him. He knew how much it hurt carriers to leave children behind; it went against every instinct. 

So now that they were back to the base, Kolivan reached out and gripped the back of Antok’s neck firmly. “Go wash up and start warming your wax; I’ll follow shortly.” 

Kolivan took the time to wash himself before heading to their room; there just wouldn’t be time once they got started. Antok had a tendency to get antsy once he’d submitted, and tonight would be for Antok, to help him relax and unwind from grief and lost opportunities. Kolivan wouldn’t leave his side for anything. 

Antok was kneeling on the floor, plate rings in front of his knees, and Kolivan crooned soft approval as he slipped through the door. Inserting the rings into the piercings in Antok’s neck-plate was the work of a moment, and then Kolivan lifted his consort’s chin to kiss him and learn his mental state. _Grief_ , longing, loneliness— That decided what Kolivan was going to do tonight. He warbled with his syrinx, and slipped a silk cord through the rings. A little tug had Antok standing, perfectly obedient. He submitted so beautifully. 

“Yl-vrulrav, your teats are so tight; weaning is so hard on you, my consort,” Kolivan said, pulling out the old Galran word that roughly translated to ‘my beloved, mother of precious children.’

A breath punched out of Antok’s chest, and he keened finally, sound bouncing off the walls. “Uil-vrulkin, it hurts—“ 

The matching phrase, beloved father, with the most humble inflection of ‘my’, sent a shiver through Kolivan. His instincts weren’t as strong, but he felt that desire for children too. If only they could make it true— But no, they couldn’t bring children into this life if there was any other choice. These moments when they could pretend, submit to the idea of parenthood, was all they had. 

Kolivan made a disappointed glottal click as much to get himself back on track as to catch Antok’s attention. “Strip, Yl-vrulrav, and I will get your wax ready. It’ll soothe the pain in your joints.” 

And other things, as Kolivan made sure the second vat was at the right temperature for the less therapeutic application. Antok found that the slight burn helped him submit.

Check done, he turned and tugged on the cord. Antok was nude, as commanded, and stood eyes downcast and hands clasped. Kolivan crooned, and took those hands in his, noting absently that the swelling in the knuckles was mild tonight. He took the time to massage them first, and then dipped both of Antok’s hands into the therapeutic wax. In spite of Antok’s hissed breath, it wouldn’t burn, but the heat would work deeply into the joints and provide relief. It was also a lovely color and scent, and when Kolivan pressed the palms together after the third dip, a very effective restraint. Two more dips, and Kolivan gently wrapped the thermal gauze around Antok’s hands to seal the warmth in. 

He couldn’t help a comment. “You’re so lovely, trussed up like this, Yl-vrulrav. Kneel over the bed now.” 

Antok went, and Kolivan tipped his head back for another kiss. The grief was still there, gnawing, but contentment and calm submission was growing. Good, he could continue, and pulled out a small ladle to fill with the hotter wax. Most of Antok’s skin was covered with scutes and scales, but the hot wax could be felt even through the bony layers. His back plates were especially sensitive towards the cuticle-equivalents, and Kolivan lifted the highest at his neck up, and dribbled a swirl of wax over it. Antok gasped and arched, scent gone sharp with want. The pearly wax refracted the light of their room prismatically, and it was beautiful. Kolivan blew on it, disturbing the sensitive fur hidden almost completely between the plates, and pressed a kiss to the wax. It was still hot enough to nearly burn his mouth, but the imprint left behind was worth the discomfort. 

Kolivan repeated the process with each of Antok’s back plates, leaving behind drizzles of wax until Antok was squirming and begging for more with his scent. He made such a pretty picture, and the last place Kolivan had planned for the wax was the sensitive, scaleless skin underneath Antok’s tail and between his thighs. The fur there was sparse enough to be almost nonexistent, and Kolivan was careful to stir up the wax on his clawtips and give the wax an extra moment to cool before contacting skin, one tiny drop at a time. 

“Please, Uil-Vrulkin—!” 

Kolivan hushed Antok with another kiss, reveling in the swirl of arousal. The grief was almost gone. He’d worked Antok up, and now it was time to give relief. Being near children that were young enough to still be in the pouch if they were full Galra was sure to have jumpstarted Antok’s hormones, and the desperate noise Antok made when Kolivan ran fingers over the rim of his pouch was sign enough. 

“On your back now, Yl-vrulrav. Hands above your head and spread your thighs for me.” 

Antok’s tail lashed, and his breaths rushed in and out like a bellows as he complied. Kolivan took a moment to take in the sight of Antok’s canal, cock peeking from it, and smearing slick. He rubbed his cheek through it, delighting in the tangy smell, and even more in the taste against his tongue. 

Antok trilled and arched his back as Kolivan pulled the rim of his pouch down. His teats were pulled up and away from his body, already dribbling milk against the plush pouch fur. Kolivan crooned soft nonsense, and pressed his tongue to the first teat. Just that was enough to get another squirt, and Kolivan moaned at the creamy taste. He licked, and then gently took it into his mouth. He hardly had to suck, and Antok trilled louder, gasping out a litany of ‘please’ with each pull. His tail thrashed fit to leave bruises, but Kolvian didn’t have the heart for reprimand. 

When the teat in his mouth was flushed and dry on suckling, Kolivan moved to the next, and the next, until his head was entirely inside Antok’s pouch, surrounded by musk and the soft, welcoming scent of milk. Two more, and Kolivan’s cock was unsheathed and aching in his pants, but his own need didn’t matter. Antok was nearing overstimulation, sobbing with it, so now was the time. 

Blindly, Kolivan reached out with his fingers. The wax blunted his clawtips, so he pressed them inside Antok’s canal as he sucked on the last teat hard. Antok let out a breathless cry and bucked as the additional stimulation drove him to his peak. Kolivan slowed down on the suckling while he rubbed his hands over Antok’s thighs soothingly. 

When Antok was breathless and boneless with pleasure, Kolivan pulled back enough to work at loosening the wax with his tongue and claws. Antok hardly moved, watching through slitted eyes, but his tail curled around Kolivan’s calf while Kolivan performed the loving care that was Antok’s due after an intense session. 

Water, and touch, and a soothing warble, it all felt as good as when Kolivan submitted. He was as awed as he had been the first time Antok had allowed this. But Antok kissed him, soft and sure, and knuckles now freed from the wax brushed against his cock. 

“Want you to peak over me,” Antok muttered sleepily. 

Kolivan didn’t hold back the urge to chuckle. “I’m supposed to be taking care of _you_.” 

“Then give me what I want.” 

Cheeky! But Antok was languid and full of caring, the grief pushed as far back as it could be. Kolivan had achieved what he needed, and who was he to deny his consort?


End file.
